The 54th Annual Hunger Games
by BlueBirdieTweets
Summary: Silver knives cut through the sky hitting bullseye every time. Crimson liquid sprays across the green grass, dyeing it ugly shades of red. Ear-splitting screams streak the silent night with sounds of terror, while maniacally laughing strikes fear in the hearts of others. The cannon booms signaling a life cut short. This is the 54th Hunger Games, and who will survive? SYOT Closed!
1. District 1 Reaping

**So hey everybody! Here's District 1's Reaping. I don't know how I'm going to split the chapters up right now, or who's point of view each one's going to be in, so let me know what you think. Please! :)**

**Heather Wheeler**

The sun sneaked through the curtains, landing on my head. Lazily smacking at the spot where it was the hottest, I tried to hit the ray of sun with no luck. Then the sound of muffled laughter hit my tired ears.

"Cowslip! Aster! I'm gonna get you for that," I said, while attempting to fling myself off the bed over to my 19 year old twin brothers laughing in the still act like little kids, and are so immature. Losing the angle of the mirror, they fled the room leaving me in an undignified heap on the floor, wrapped in sheets like a mummy.

Finally untangling my legs, I dragged myself to my bureau and pulled out my favorite dress. Slipping the lacy white dress over my head and onto my body, I glanced at the mirror.

Some people would call me pretty, in fact half of the guys in my grade drool over me when I pass them in the halls, but to me, I'm just me. With my ruler-straight platinum blonde hair, long eyelashes, and sparkly blue eyes I was me. Braiding strands of my hair, and bobby pinning them up out of my heart-shaped face, I looked in the mirror again.

'Looking like a career there,' I thought to myself. Sticking my narrow nose in the air, I finally gained the cocky look I was going for if I got reaped.

"Heather, it's almost time to go to the reaping," my mom yelled up the stairs. My parents spoil me rotten because I'm the baby of the family. I enjoy it most of the time, but sometimes they need to let me grow up.

Prancing down the stairs, I pass through the training section in our big house, ending up in the kitchen. My parents were already at the table with my older twin brothers Cowslip and Aster.

As I passed they ducked their blonde heads down farther towards the table as I whined to my parents, "They woke me up early." Like clockwork, my mom instantly scolded my brothers, "You guys know you shouldn't be messing with Heather."

Putting on mock faces of sorrow and sympathy they apologized to me sarcastically, "I'm sorry you needed your beauty sleep-" "-we realize you need as much of it you can get." Laughing slightly Aster finished for Cowslip.

Rolling my eyes I sat down and asked, "Where's Violet?" "Getting ready," My Dad said, licking his lips from the bacon he just finished. "She does realize she's 19 and not eligible to get reaped, right?" I asked.

That moment was the time Violet chose to walk into the kitchen, "Good Morning everyone, and yes Heather I do realize that I'm not eligible." "Then why are you dressed like that?" I asked looking at her curly blonde hair, diamond studded bracelet, pink dress, black leather jacket, and boots. "Just in case I'm caught on camera," She replied with a smirk.

"My dad looked at his watch then announced to my seated family, "Time to go." Everybody stood up, and walked to the front of the house. My house was one of the richer families, so we lived right near the town square, making it less than a 2 minute walk to the Reaping.

Walking up to the peacekeepers, I thrust my hand under a balding middle-age guy, where he promptly pricked my finger.

Walking off to the 18 year old section near the stage, I saw the capitol lady on the stage talking in her pinched accent. She was wearing a mixture of colors, and she seemed to have painted on a new face with makeup. With a mustard yellow wig, neon green dress, and electric blue high heels that made her tower over me. In short, I'm glad I'm not her.

Entering my section, I saw my 'friends,' Mauve and Savannah. I call them that because they're more followers then anything. I do something, they follow. I wear a new trend, the next day they are too.

"Hey Heather," Mauve says. I glare at her. Did I mention that they are so annoying, and I hate them? Rolling my eyes I look at Savannah, who is wearing the same outfit I wore yesterday, minus the color coordination. "Love your hair," I say pointing at her rat's nest of a head. "Really?" she gushes, "I just got it done."

The mayor starts his speech then, saving Savannah's feelings from turning good to bad. Turning away from her, I look at the mentor for this year, Ruby Sterling. Her chin length copper hair slightly moves in the wind. I focus on her during the History of Panem, letting the words float through one ear, and out the other.

"Ladies first," Valletta, our escort squealed. Poised, she walked over to the glass ball holding the name of this year's girl tribute. Grabbing the first slip her hand encounters, she unfolded it, smoothed it out, than read the name for the district to hear.

"Heather Wheeler," echoes and bounces around the square. My brain freezes for a second leaving a single word: crap. Lifting my head arrogantly into the air, I march up to the steps, and onto the stage.

My thoughts raced through my head, leaving one unanswerable question, why me? Still thinking she asked for volunteers. The wind blows, and I looked down at Mauve and Savannah who weren't looking at me. Nobody volunteers this year shockingly.

Valletta walks over to the boy's reaping ball. She dips her hand in, and grabs a slip when someone yelled to the stage.

"I volunteer," the voice yelled out. A copper-hair 17 year old boy made his way to the stage, flashing a cocky grin in the camera's direction. "What's your name," the capitol escort asks him.

"Emerald Sterling," He says. Valletta smiles a ghastly smile, and says, "Following in your mother's footsteps I see."

That was when the mayor chose, at that moment to step forward and give the Treaty of Treason. I started to zone it all out, and remembered where I was, when Emerald winks at me. Looking away disgust on my face, I see Violet on the screen.

"Shake hands," The mayor said. Reaching forward I grabbed Emerald's hand and looked up to see his face. Yep, he is taller than me.

After that, the peacekeepers roughly dragged us to the Justice building. Kicking the door open, I was thrown into a room with plain white walls, and a red velvet couch in the middle. Scoffing at the inexpensiveness, I sat down, smoothing my skirt out.

First to come in was my family. My Mom was crying her eyes out, rubbing at them as if that would make the red puffiness disappear. She gave me a hug as my dad starts talking strategy, and reminding me of all the training I've been through. Cowslip and Aster were just standing there in shock looking at me in a funny way.

Then it hit me on who is missing. "Where's Violet?" I said interrupting my dad talking about being in the career alliance or something. I look around again. "Why isn't she here?" My dad gapes at me, and I look at him expectantly.

My mom was the one who answered, "She wants to see you separately." Hollow inside, I gave my family one last hug before they were dragged out by peacekeepers.

Next to come in was Violet. She didn't say anything, and I didn't either. No one wanted to break the awkward silence. Finally she placed in the palm of my hand a hard, round object, which she curled my fingers around. She then left, without either of us saying a word.

When the door closed softly, I unclench my fingers to see her favorite silver, diamond studded bracelet. On the inside was something I never saw before. Etched in the silver were three words, I Love You. Letting a single tear slip out, I look up to see my next guests, Mauve and Savannah.

That's when all fury let loose. I scream louder than I thought my vocal chords could reach, "Why didn't you volunteer for me!" I say. They whimper and take a couple steps back before answering me, "W-we were s-s-scared." After their stutter, they manage to run out of the room before I could yell at them more.

What great friends, I think to myself. Getting up from the couch, I twirl the bracelet around my wrist. "Time to go to the train, ma'am," One of the peacekeepers says as he escorts me out of the room, and to the train station.

Once there I took my spot next to Emerald, where I just smile and wave to the cameras. This isn't too bad, I think.

**Emerald Sterling**

'Clang!' The sound of metal against metal dully vibrates in my eardrum, but I've been doing this all my life, so it doesn't affect me. My scythe hooks around my stepdad's sword, making him lose his grip, and he lets the weapon clang to the ground. I bring my scythe up behind his neck, he freezes.

"I won," I say nonchalantly. Spinning around I see my mom shaking her head. My mom is a past Victor, so she has pretty high standards. "Again," she says. We've been doing this since 3 in the morning, and we still are.

"But mom, it's a half hour until the Reaping," I complain. "Again," she says, "you are not volunteering if you can't do the routine with the right form, speed, and power like it's supposed to go, now again." My mom's serious, so I continue fighting for 15 minutes, and the routine is satisfactory for my mom.

Walking outside, the sun is shining, so I decide to run home, instead of riding with my mom. The streets are quiet so I make it into a game of how many people I see. When I get to the Victor's Village, I have a grand total of 4 people.

Running up the steps, I soon reach my bedroom, where on my made bed lays black dress pants, a red button down shirt, and a black tie. I change into my Reaping clothes quickly. Looking into the mirror, I spike my copper hair up in the front. With my dark blue eyes, pug nose, and copper hair, I'm a showstopper, if I do say so myself.

Looking at the totally handsome me in the mirror, I completely forget where I'm supposed to be heading, the Reaping. Taking the steps two at a time, I sprint to the Reaping, where luckily no one is in line, because when I position myself in the 17 year old section, the mayor starts reading the history of Panem. Rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet, I see my mom on the stage looking at me.

Giving her a small smile, I look at the escort, who is now at the microphone. Her mustard yellow wig is a sight to see, and makeup covers her face. She walks over to the girl's Reaping ball, where she grabs the first paper out of the many.

My first thought was, please don't let it be my little sisters, Jewel, (who is 15) and Crystal, (who is 13). This is my Games. I'm gonna win, and they can't stop me. Thankfully it wasn't one of them.

"Heather Wheeler," The escort yells out to the waiting crowd.

No, no, no! Not her! I think wildly. Not Heather, not the girl that I've had a crush on for almost 2 years. Hiding my horrified expression, I watch Heather stomp up onto the stage. There's gonna be a volunteer, I think desperately. No one volunteers.

Looking up to the stage, I see my mom slightly nodding her head. Ignoring the fact that I might have to kill Heather if I volunteer, I yell out right when Valletta was about to read the name.

"I volunteer," I say while leaving my section. Flashing a cocky grin at the cameras, I make it up to the stage. "What's your name?" Valletta asks. I answer quickly back, "Emerald Sterling." The escort looked amused, "Following in your mother's footsteps I see."

Nodding I looked at Heather. She was a year older but I was taller by 3 or 4 inches. Feeling daring, I sneaked her a wink, and watched her turn away… is that disgust? Feeling hurt, I look down at our feet, not looking up until we have to shake hands.

As soon as we let go, the audience starts clapping enthusiastically as the peacekeepers escort us away. In a plain room, I wait for my first visitor. In comes my family. Crystal and Jewel stay away from me, probably jealous that I get to be in the Games, and they won't.

My stepdad started talking about how amazing I am at fighting, how handsome I am, and all these compliments. I like hearing someone else say them, because I know they're true, but the world hasn't acknowledged me being so amazing yet. I'm smiling and nodding when I see my mom standing behind him. Getting up I give her a hug.

"You're going into the games, act like it," she says harshly. The smile instantly drops from my face. Soon my family is leaving. The last thing my stepdad says to me is, "See you in a little bit." Then the door closes, leaving me to my thoughts.

I'm pretty popular, but all my friends are pretty disposable, so I don't expect anyone else to visit me. For the rest of the hour, I contemplate over how I'm going to win, and what these games are going to be like.

Soon the peacekeepers are dragging me out of the quiet room to face all of the cameras. I smile, wave, and act like I'm having the time of my life. Soon Heather, Valletta, my mom, and I are entering the train to ride to the Capitol.

Heather avoids my gaze, as we enter the train. This is going to be an interesting Games, I think as I settle myself down for the train ride.

**Tell me what you think! :)**


	2. District 2 Reaping

**Hi! I'm soo happy to be posting another chapter. Sorry this took so long, but I wanted my mom to check for grammer mistakes. What's your favorite key on the keyboard, I'd really like to know. :) So, I would like to thank my awesome reviewers from last chapter. I love reading your reviews.**

**Emma Dever**

"No, please stop!" I yell at my father as he strikes me again. Whimpering, I curl into a ball to protect as much of myself as possible. Sobbing into my knees, I feel my left eye throb, a definite black eye later. My father once again hits me with the broom, across the top of my head this time.

My father then walks over to my mother; he looks at her mangled body. She's on the floor where she has fainted. Her split lip is bleeding and blackish blue bruises are splotched all over her skin. I crawl over to her, holding my ribs which feel like they are about to explode.

My father looks at us, then in a cold tone he says, "The Reaping starts in 45 minutes, don't be late." I look up at him in disbelief. He leaves the house slamming the front door.

My father has been beating us for the past 3 years. My father never gets in trouble. Mostly because he is the main instructor at the peacekeeper academy, and if anybody accused him of beating his wife and daughter, me, he would beat the crap out of them

Getting up slowly, I look at the reflection of me in the cracked mirror over the sink. My blonde hair is matted and hanging limply down my back, and my light blue eyes look sadly back at me. I have a swelling eye, and slightly healed bruises cover my body.

Leaning down, I lift my mother up and started to clean both of us up. 5 new bruises each, a split lip for my mom, and a long cut running down my neck, still bleeding freely. This is barely anything, knowing what father has done to us in past times.

Cleaning my cut, I apply a Capitol issued medicine that heals injuries quicker, than wrap it in a fresh bandage. Applying some of the ointment to my mother's lip, I walk as fast as I can to my room where I dress myself in a white dress, nothing too special. Walking back to my mother, who is now situated in a chair, I make sure she can walk before I rush to the main square.

I'm going to be late for the Reaping, I think to myself, but I'm just on time. Walking at a pace that doesn't hurt my bruised ribs, I soon see my brunette best friend, Eleanor. Eleanor knows of the beatings, but she doesn't flaunt the information, because she knows that would get me in trouble.

Her parents own the apothecary in town. She sneaks first aid materials to me when I need them. Eleanor is the only good thing in my life, and I could say, and believe, I wouldn't be here without her. She's my rock, my shoulder to lean on.

Looking at her gratefully, she pulls out makeup that I think I've heard her call concealer. That's good, I think, maybe it will hide some of my bruises. When we make it to the sign in lines, she silently covers my black eye with the concealer.

We've been through this routine before, "Broom to the eye, smacked in the ribs, over the head, and on my back. H-h-he cut me with a knife down my neck," I finally stutter out. It is hard to admit to somebody that my life is miserable.

"Really?" Eleanor asks incredulously. "This is a new low, even for him," Eleanor says as she finishes covering my bruises, and we reach the front of the check-in line. Turning around the peacekeeper draws blood from her finger. Me next, I step forward hesitantly, and try not to watch as my blood is smeared on the page.

Walking to the 18 year old section, I look at all of the people standing in this crowded square. When we reach the roped off area, I instantly zone out. This being my last year with the chance of being reaped, I can recite the entire speech from memory alone.

'There once was a place called North America. But droughts and fires, hurricanes and tornados, and encroaching seas took their toll. Brutal wars broke out as people fought for-' I stopped with the speech in my head. That's weird I can't remember what the people fought for. Puzzled, I ponder this until I heard my name being called by someone.

"Emma Dever," I looked up absentmindedly and replied, still thinking, "What? Wait, what?" I asked again. Was my name just said in that stupid Capitol accent, with the first 'e' in my last name drawn out?

I knew instantly, but my brain did not want to accept the fact that I just had a death sentence basically. I started robotically placing one foot in front of the other, until I completed the short walk up to the stage. Standing as far away as I could from the escort, I heard her ask for volunteers, but none presented themselves.

As if in a dream-like state, I hear her call out the boy's name, Jordan Wickers, and I see someone volunteer. I do not react. I do not think. I am frozen in fear about my upcoming fate.

Still frozen, Perseus Mayweather I think his name is grabs my hand and shakes it. I limply drop it back to my side. The peacekeepers pick me up by the elbows, and throw me into a deserted room, to wait for my visitors.

First to come is my father. When he looks at me, I flinch. I hope it wasn't noticeable. He raises his hand slap me. I do not show weakness this time, if I can't take my father, I know I can't survive the Hunger Games. I look up at him with hard unforgiving eyes. He is not my father.

Still with a stinging cheek, I feel the waterworks start to turn on. I sob into my hands, and when my next visitor comes in, I sob into her shoulder.

Looking up, through my tears I see my mother crying silently. Wiping my face, I start to comfort my mother. Even though, in my opinion, she should be comforting me. I mean, seriously, I'm the one who has a 1 out of 24 chance of living. What awesome odds.

Patting my mother on the back, I dug through my memories to comprehend why she would be breaking down like this. I'm not there. Realization hits me, because I'm usually there taking the blows for my mother, nursing her back to health, my mother doesn't stand a chance against my father's beatings.

Soon my 3 minutes are up with my mother. Giving her one last reassuring hug, I watch as the peacekeeper comes in, and drags her limp body away.

My last expected visitor comes in. Eleanor rushes in and gives me a bear hug. Pushing away slightly, I give her a reassuring smile. My father is family, but I feel no kinship to him. My mother is broken and worn, and she is almost gone without me. Eleanor is my family. She has always been there for me, and even though we're not the same flesh and blood, we're sisters at heart.

"How much do you bet that I'll make it past the bloodbath, 10 dollars maybe?" I muse jokingly. She smacks my shoulder lightly and replies, "You shouldn't joke about this Emma," she says playfully.

"Remember my 14th Birthday?" I ask fondly. "Remember!? Zane, Toby, and Jose tried to crash it." Eleanor said smiling at the distant memory. "They shouldn't have climbed through the window," I said trying to stifle my laughter. "Or worn all black," I add as an afterthought. "Well, you sure left them sore for a couple months, how many ribs broken total?"

"6," I say smiling. Her goal was to cheer me up, and it's obviously working. "And it's called Jujitsu not karate," I state, looking at her mouth that's already forming the word karate.

We start cracking up, and soon we have recalled almost all of our good memories as friends in the last 3 minutes of time we have together. A peacekeeper soon comes in to abduct my best friend, our time is up. With tears in her eyes, Eleanor throws something at me, which I catch gracefully.

Without looking down, I slip the object in my pocket. Going up to the tall mahogany doors, I open one smoothly and step out. "I'm ready to go to my train," I tell the peacekeeper. He looks at me, then hooking his arm through my elbow, escorts me to the train.

Once there I look up to see that Perseus and my escort waiting by the door to the train. Hurrying up next to them I turn around and give them a confident smile. The cameras eat it up, and I realize I'm back to myself.

Turning around we enter the train where I stop quickly. The cameras are still flashing through the window, and the train has just started to roll down the tracks. "You guys go ahead, I'll be right there," I shoo Perseus away, who stopped with me. Following after the escort without question, I look down at my hands.

Pulling out the mysterious object from my pocket, I turn over a small box with a note attached to the lid. It read

_Dear Emma,_

_ I was going to give this to you on your birthday, but I've decided it can't wait. In here is my family's most prized possession, but I hope you will use it as you're token. We think that there is only one more in existence at this period of time. Guard it well, and may luck be with you._

_ Your Best Friend and Sister_

_ Eleanor_

Letting more tears drip from my eyes I gingerly remove the lid from the box to find a clear diamond, about the size of my eye. On the inside of the diamond were veins of gold and silver running through it, as if this was natural. At the top was a small hole, as if it was meant to be on a chain.

Looking at my gift an extra minute, I slipped the cold, heavy diamond into my pocket, and wiped away my tears for the last time today. 'Kill, or be killed. Fight or die.' This was running through my head as I walked deeper into the train, not looking back.

**Perseus Mayweather**

Sliding out of the covers of my actually comfortable bed, I smile because my family fares better than other families in District 2. Quickly kicking the sheets off my bed, I stand up and walk across my large room to the drawers in the corner. Grabbing a pair of black khakis and a grey button shirt I put the shorts on and just carry the shirt.

I slide down the banister, and jump off at the bottom, onto the wooden floor. My morning ritual usually includes my dad yelling at me to not do that, and my mom just ignoring. Today is quiet though. Nobody yells at me, so I enter my family's kitchen curiously looking for my parents.

Lying on the kitchen table is a huge blueberry muffin and a sticky note. I go for the muffin. Shoving it into my mouth, after taking the paper wrapper off first, I read the note from my parents. It's written in my mom's loopy handwriting, and reads quite easily:

_Perseus,_

_ Your dad and I have to go to the Reaping early, as you know, so lock up the house when you're dressed. We took Demetre to the Reaping with us early. Have fun volunteering, and don't be late! Hope you get in!_

_ -Mom_

Still carrying my grey button down shirt, I shoved my arms into my sleeves while flying out the front door. Turning to lock it quickly, my shirt is still unbuttoned. I run down the street, still training, even outside the gym. When I get to the Reaping, the line is still long for check-in, and people are grouping around each other talking with their friends before it starts.

Walking quickly to the 16 year old section, I see my little sister Demetre standing in the 12 year old section, talking to a group of girls, all giggling and whispering. Looking up to the stage, I see my Mom where she is every Reaping, lined up next to all of the other Victors. Her light skin was perfectly clean, and her dirty blonde hair in a high ponytail, shining in the morning sunlight.

My dad on the other hand, was just now walking onto the stage. His dark skin and short hair that curled on the top of his head, made the worry lines almost fade. Almost. Being the mayor of District 2 makes living here stressful for my dad. His forehead wrinkles are almost permanent marks, and his eyes are tired, exhausted even with dark bags to show his lack of sleep.

Nobody in this District would notice all of this though. The mayor is just the beginning of a story, the hook in a paragraph, verse one in the song; he is just there before the exciting part; before the Reaping, and before the interesting part actually begins. Even though most of the kids here are supposed to be trained or training, noticing details isn't part of the course.

In District 2, and likewise in District 1, brawn is more praised then brains. I have thought about the Hunger Games all my life, neither in a good or bad light, but in a way as to how can I prepare myself for the games. I've taught myself how I can be strong, tough, and physical, but also smart, calculating, and prepared.

During my thinking session, my dad finishes reading the History of Panem, a long boring speech that nobody listens too. My friend Zander has finally spotted me through the hundreds of heads, straining their necks towards the stage.

He's smiling stupidly at me, and I automatically look down. My shirt is wide open, showing my naturally tan skin and abs. I then remember that I have to look presentable on stage.

Quickly buttoning my shirt up, Zander continues walking towards me, laughing silently. Shooting him a death glare that shut him up instantly, I glance down so I can slide the top button into the hole to finish with my shirt.

That instant, the multi-colored capitol lady called the girl's name. I automatically look up to see who my competition for this year would be. "Emma Dever," the name rings out through town's square, and I hear a quiet reply. "What? Wait, what?" she asks confused sounding.

Then I see the eighteen year old who would be the girl tribute for this year, if there were no volunteers; she stiffly walks up the steps to the stage. A big surprise that must have shocked everyone was there were no volunteers.

Moving to the boy's reaping ball, I look down to the last button. "Crap!" I mutter to myself. I messed up, so there was an empty slot at the bottom, and an empty button at the top. "Jordan Wickers," echoes across the vast sea of people, but I quickly claim the title tribute from him.

"I volunteer," I yell across. I see my mother nod approvingly, and I see the mentor for this year, Hammil Ticker, the Victor of the 53rd, instantly start to size me up.

Running my fingers through the mess of light brown curls that is my hair, I set my deep green eyes on the stage, and start to stride to the steps. Once there, I assess Emma Dever, and see she is zoning everything out. Giving a slight snicker, I look out to the crowds.

Seeing my dark-haired girlfriend in the 16 year old section, I give a lazy smile and a small wink to her area. I swear I see half the girls swoon who are looking at me, but her smile just gets bigger. That's my girl, Thalia Robinson.

After the Treaty of Treason, I lean forward and grab my district partner's hand. Giving her a firm shake, the audience bursts into loud applause, and we are escorted into the Justice building.

The first to visit me is my dad, the mayor, and my mom. They are both smiling from ear to ear, and have a proud gleam in their eyes. For the whole 3 minutes they are there, all I hear are strategies, praise and excitement that they will have another victor in the family.

I ignore them most of the time, I'd rather not hear praise for something that hasn't happened yet, or may never will.

The next to enter is my best friend, Zander. He's smiling too, though he is more reasonable then my parents. Our conversation is short, and he doesn't stay the whole 3 minutes. "I didn't know you were going to volunteer!" He said when he first entered. "Only my parents did," I said back, smiling evilly. Zander is my best friend, we succeed together (not very often), and we fail together (more often than not).

We talked like this for a second or two more before Zander leaves, leaving me to my thoughts, for now.

My little sister, Demetre rushes in next. She catches me in one of the rare hugs I give, and is soon crying into my shirt. I pat her dark hair down onto her head, and look down at her red face. "Why are you crying? I'm coming home," I state simply for her. She seems to be my only family member who actually understands the Hunger Games.

"You don't know that for sure," she sniffles. I look down at her and give her a confident grin, and go into one of those old 'Egyptian' poses, from the old world. That brings out the giggles from her and I ask, "How can this not win?" I say giving her a cross-eyed look with my tongue touching my nose.

By the end of our session, I have Demetre giggling and smiling along with me. The peacekeepers then come in to drag her away from me, maybe forever. I give her one last reassuring smile, and wait for my last visitor, Thalia.

In she comes, drifting into the room with an aura that's telling everyone it's hers. That she owns everything here, me included. Giving her one a smile, I reach out for a hug, which she gladly takes.

Then settling on my lap, I kiss her on the nose quickly, and then on the mouth for a slightly longer amount of time. Looking into her electric blue eyes, I twist a lock of black hair around my finger.

We sit like this, just looking at each other for what could've been months or years for all I know. All I do know was it wasn't enough time. The peacekeeper calls out to us to tell us our time is over.

I smile and go in for one more, slightly longer kiss, my last memory of her. She raises her hand to my cheek when were done, and brushes under my eye. Then turning around, she walks away, and doesn't look back.

I get up from the comfortable couch, and walk over to the large ornate door, and pull it open. I leave the room, and walk by myself to the train. The peacekeepers are tailing me, but I don't think about them.

I think about everything that is happening. I think about all of the changes, for my family, for Thalia, and for Zander. But there is something else playing around in the back of my mind, what if I don't return?

Pushing that evil thought away, I slowly bring my fingers up to my cheek, and simply start to enjoy the present, and what will happen in the near future.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~haha :)**


	3. District 3 Reaping

**I do NOT, repeat NOT own the Hunger Games, because if I did Finnick would still be alive! I keep forgetting to put that up, sorry! :D**

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**New Update! I would like to thank all of my awesome reviewers, have a cookie ;) And here they are!**

**Lap- Thanks for the compliment, I try to make the tributes as detailed and human as I can. Some of them are a bit snobbish though ;)**

**HungryForMore74- Emma is pretty awesome :D**

**D12Lindsay- District 6 is correct. Sorry about the random J, I fixed it. OMC (Oh My Cupcakes!) it is a squiggly!**

**Alexia0456- Is this soon enough?**

**GinaTheQueena- Now why are you confused?**

**Guest- Is this update good? And I'm glad you like reading my story!**

**Harily- Well here's the next chapter, enjoy! :D**

**Phlox Whexl**

The smog in the skies of my district prevented the sun from shining through to the layer of people in desperate need of light, warmth, and happiness, but not me. The Reaping is a special holiday that shows who's strong, and who can't be brave enough for the people of Panem, I am one of the strong. I am not in a depressed state because of today.

Instantly going into daydream mode, I start to fantasize about this year's Hunger Games. All of the fighting, alliances, blood, what's not to like? I continue staring out the window, deep in thought about this year's arena. Is there going to be cold and harsh temperatures or a hot and dry desert for this year? One main water source and barely any cover for the tributes, or the opposite of that, thick vegetation and multiple springs and rivers.

I ponder over the competition, and mostly, if this is my year. Scrunching my hand into a fist, I crinkle my forehead with thought lines as I think once again for the 3rd year in the row, am I going to volunteer.

My brain goes onto overdrive, calculating my chances. This is a yearly occurrence for me. Since I was first a loud to watch the Hunger Games I have decided my fate, it is not what, but when I will get the ball rolling.

Standing up from the cushioned bench situated under the window, I go down to breakfast to see my mum and dad. I am already dressed for this special occasion in black slacks and a white blouse, simple but effective.

My mum would be a very beautiful lady if she wasn't always stressed, and always working, thinking, calculating, and inventing. Her hair is long and red, you can tell its silky just by looking, and her dark grey eyes are the same color as my own, dark and bleak like the pollution that hovers in the air over the city.

My hair is the same coppery color as hers, but instead lies in thick, russet ringlets down to my shoulder blades. The uneven choppy layers always make me seem maddening, and my bangs that seem to be in my eyes all of the time don't help my appearance become less threatening. My eyes are the same as my mum's; I almost look like an exact replica as her, but small differences set us apart.

From my dad's side of the family, I have inherited the round face and defined cheekbones. Over the bridge of my nose, is a spray of light freckles, leading into the rosy tint of my cheeks. Overall, I look like a 12 year old; Almost no bust, and barely there curves in my hips, I'm an adult in a child's body.

Sitting myself at the table, I start to nibble on the side of my toasted bagel spread with strawberry jam. The red reminds me of blood, which soon gets me to start thinking about my brilliant plan for the arena.

This is my year. I realize this while setting my bagel gently down on my plate. Giving an evil grin towards my mum, I tell her what I'm going to be doing. "I'm going to volunteer this year. It's my lifelong dream, you know that, and this is the year."

My mum looks at me, and I see that crestfallen, heartbroken look in her eyes. Tears begin to well up behind her dark grey eyes, and I just look at her. This is my year, and nobody is taking it from me, especially not my own mum.

Furrowing my eyes, I see my mum's startled look still frozen on her face. Pushing a lock of my russet hair out of my eyes, I stand up suddenly. Squeaking my shoes on the tile black and white checkered tile floor, I walk out of the door with my mum still frozen.

Walking outside onto the dusty trail to the Town Square, I watch as pale, scrawny, kids line up to get their finger pricked. Striding to the back of the line, I look down on the 12 year old standing in front of me.

She was visibly shaking, and her dark brown hair was standing up in strange spikes. One of her friends called her Electra Holts. That's an odd name, I thought to myself.

She turned around for a second and her eyes looked up at me. Now I know why they named her Electra. Her eyes were electric blue. In contrast to mine, they were bright and a shade of color rarely found in this district.

Looking up from my thoughts once again, I jab my finger towards the peacekeeper. Rocking on the balls of my feet, he smeared my blood onto the white paper. He waves a device over the blood; it probably copies and sorts the chromosomes, makes a virtual DNA fingerprint, sends the information through the data base, and finds my name, Phlox Whexl, in a matter of seconds.

This runs through my head in the same amount of time it takes me to walk to the 15 year old station. Sliding into the roped off pen, I don't even bother looking for my friends. I don't have any, and I'm fine with that.

The mayor steps forward to read the History of Panem. I started to play a game I've come up with a couple of years ago to help with my training. Looking up at the stage I tried to spread my vision across the whole group of people, but notice even the smallest of details.

Looking at the escort first, I notice the crooked hem on her skirt and the slight lipstick smear on her front tooth when she smiles. The mayor's one hand was clenched in a fist, and Beetee, one of the past Victors, was twisting a short wire through his fingers.

The escort stepped up to the microphone, and tapped her long violet nail on the head of it. A clicking sound travelled through the District's town square, and she started to screech into the microphone. "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds ever in your favor," she said, while everyone noticeably cringed.

Tilting forward slightly, I noticed her neon green curls bounced, and her silver eyes flickered over the audience. "Lady's first!" She said happily, I smiled and started to move forward slightly in the crowd.

"Electra Holts," she read from the white, crisply folded slip of paper. From the back of the crowd, she started to move from the 12 year old section. Her electric blue eyes were swimming with tears.

Taking a deep breath, and flashing a malicious grin to no one in particular, I put one of my many talents to use, and started to put on a show. Fake tears blurred my vision, and my sobs echoed off the buildings overhead. Running forward I yelled in a shaky voice, "I volunteer!"

Clearly relieved, Electra scurried back into the crowd of people, I started to climb the stairs, slowly and dramatically. Still shocked the Escort asked me for my name.

"Phlox Whexl," I answered sounding miserable, but on the inside I was dancing with glee, excited for this year's games.

The Escort, Cammilla I think her name is, teetered back to the microphone with one slip in her hand. Unfolding it slowly so to let the suspense build, she read off the poor soul's name.

"Jason Torenz." Everybody's head turned to the 16 year old section where a regular looking pale blonde hair blue eyed boy stands, shaking.

He starts walking to the stage slowly, trying not to show his fear. Smirking on the inside, I well up another round of tears to blur my vision. He stands opposite from me, and while the Mayor reads the Treaty of Treason, I keep my vision down towards the ground, trying not to look up at him.

We shook hands, and the peacekeepers escort us non-too gently towards the Justice Building. Once inside, I sit down onto the couch. Without a sound, the door unhurriedly swung open, permitting my mum and dad enter.

My mum's tear stricken face, and dad's grave look told me that they thought I was going to die. I'm not going to die though, I am stronger than them, stronger than the other tributes, and I will emerge victorious.

My mum envelopes me into a big hug, while my dad holds us both. I don't cry for them, they know I am strong and it was just and act. My mum pulls away, and leaves quickly, not speaking a word the entire time.

My dad bows his head one more time, and follows suit. Rolling my eyes, I get up from my now comfy seat. I won't have any more visitors, I think, but I am wrong. The door opens again, and I gape at it for a second, before looking down to see tiny Electra.

Her electric blue eyes are still swimming with tears, and I once again put on my façade. Sniffling quietly, the tiny girl looks up at me with gratitude. Her tiny mouth starts to move, and she utters a question I am barely able to catch.

"Why did you volunteer for me?" She asks innocently. I open my mouth, and probably look like a fish with my face froze like this.

Closing my mouth, I answer without destroying my carefully planned layer of acting, I lie to her like a pro, "I didn't think you would stand a chance, and I didn't want a 12 year old to go into the arena." I finished this with a depressed smile.

"Well thank you," Electra says stepping forward into an unoffered hug. I pat her spiked hair awkwardly, and she scurries out the door. She's like a mouse, I think, small and silent.

Sure this time that I don't have any more visitors, I step outside the door, where 2 peacekeepers are waiting. Putting on a mask of depression, I walk to the train.

When the cameras flash, I continue to look at my shoes and cry. To the Capitol, I am already dead. I'm a wilted flower with no chance of survival. What the Capitol doesn't know is that I am perennial, and will come back, in full bloom and ready to fight.

I will be the Victor of the 54th Annual Hunger Games, and nobody is going to stop me. I am ready to win.

**Jason Torenz**

Sprint I can't be late, I think to myself as I run towards town. Shoving my wires and other miscellaneous items in my pocket, I look down at my work clothes. My khakis hold multiple tools and other gadgets I need for my job in the factory, and my grease-stained plaid button down shirt breaks the unstated rule for the Reaping, dress up.

Shaking my head, I sprint to the peacekeepers, who are just finishing the last person in line. Breaking to a stop, I grip the table, breathing heavily and wiping my sweat away with the flannel shirt.

The peacekeepers look at me oddly, but I don't pay attention to their odd looks. All of my life I have been receiving them, and I've acquired a special talent to ignore these looks.

The mayor starts the History of Panem as I speed-walk to the 16 year old section. I try not to draw attention to myself, but everyone knows me in District 3. I'm the nerd, the smart-aleck, the genius.

I'm from District 3, known for their smart children, but I exceed that average. My IQ is higher than most adults at a whopping 148. Some may think that this is a gift wasted, but I use my gift.

Smiling too myself, I ignore the racket happening for the Reaping, and walk over to my best friend, Caleb Sparks. He grins idiotically, and I wonder for over the millionth time why I'm friends with this idiot.

While walking towards him, I hear my name called by the odd Capitol lady with the neon green wig and aqua-teal skirt and sweater. I freeze in my tracks, and look up to the stage to see her looking at me expectantly. I wonder how she knows it's me until I realize all heads are turned in my direction.

Shaking slightly, I try to steadily walk up to the stage, but the blood draining from my face is a clear indicator of my nerves.

I climb the steps, where I see the girl tribute. Her russet hair makes her look crazy, but other than that she's a little girl. Her tears drip from the tip of her nose, and her eyes flicker around our feet, not meeting anyone's gaze.

Looking down, I listen to the Treaty of Treason. I curtly shake hands once he finishes, and I am almost literally dragged to the Justice Building, where I will be saying my last goodbyes.

With wide eyes, I try to absorb my surroundings. The white walls are spotless, and the carpeted floor leaves footprints once you are done walking. A grand chandelier lights up the room, while floor to ceiling widows lets the limited amount of sunlight from through the smog into the room.

Sitting down on the only furnishing, I watch the large door open to allow my parents to say goodbye. Like last night my parents give me a hug, and we sit on the couch. They don't say anything, but I know what their thinking, why did we overwork our son? Why did we not put his gifts to use before this? Why is it him?

My family acts like they care, but truthfully, they don't. They look at me like another way to gain money. To them, I'm not even worth anything. They wouldn't cry, or feel sorry and pity for me. No my parents would regret, regret they didn't use me more to their advantage.

Giving them hug that I don't really mean, I watch them stride out the door, not looking back. They won't remember me they won't hope or cheer me on. If I do come home though, they will act like my parents once again, just to live out of poverty.

I have worked my entire life, learning, doing, experiencing. That's why I will come home, to show my parents I actually am good for something.

The door opens in my moment of thought, and I soon realize Caleb's nose is inches from mine, and he is still wearing his idiotic grin, though it looks more forced now than before.

Giving him a big hug, I smile and he looks at me expectantly. "You're going to win," He states. "You're a genius, you can win," he more pleads then. "Well of course I'm going to try my best," I encourage him.

"I should get going, your sister wants to see you," I watch as my only best friend walks out of the door. He may act like an idiot sometimes, but he is pretty smart on rare occasions.

A squeal is my forewarning as my little sister, Anna rockets her small body onto me. I stagger onto the couch, which I had gotten up to talk to Caleb, and she sits on my lap.

Her 8 year old chubby cheeks glow a pink color, and her sandy blonde hair is pulled up in two pigtails with ribbons that match her bright blue eyes. Anna I feel like sometimes she's the only one that understands me, and what I'm going through.

Her bright eyes look at me expectantly, and she asks, "Where are you going? Are you coming back?" It breaks my heart to see her upset, but I still tell her the truth, only if I only answer one of her questions. "I'm going to the Capitol. I hear they have all pretty colors there, and tall buildings, and sunshine." I tell her.

She smiles, and I see the gap in her teeth where her two front teeth fell out earlier this month. Smiling back at her I say, "Now go find mommy and daddy."

I watch her as she skips out the door, and wonder how she can be so happy and oblivious. Because reality is what kills your dream, I think to myself, and that is what's going to happen to me in the arena.

Looking longingly out the window at my District, I step out the door, and into a land of sorrow, pain, and death. If only I could be as happy and oblivious, that is my last thought before I am swallowed by the crowd of cameras.

**:D Let's try to make it to 50 Reviews!**


	4. District 4 Reaping

**Happy New Year! Sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I've been a little busy. So, basically Darin is a Finnick Odair of his time. A shoutout to I-piTy-Da-FoOl for being the 50th reviewer! Raise the roof! Lol, anyways let's try to get to 71 reviews. I picked that number randomly... well, ENJOY!**

**WARNING: I'm changing my username. I'm doing this because I feel this username right now is constricting me for only The Hunger Games. I'm sorry if this displeases you! :(**

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**Star Desent**

"Hurry up!" Lauren, my 12 year old little sister yelled up the stairs. Smiling, I finished fish-tailing my long blackish-brown hair, and tied a silvery blue ribbon at the bottom. I walked leisurely to the mirror a few paces away, and I spun. My powder blue dress' ruffles lifted over the updraft, and the flown bottom complimented my hips where the dress was tighter. I admired the mid-length sleeves that were silky and floating, kind of like sleeves found on a fairy's dress.

Skipping into the room next door, I pick my 4 year old brother up, and ask him, "Are you wearing your new shirt Nick?" He nods, and started to play with the end of the ribbon in my hair. Smiling, I carry him outside where my parents are standing; they are in an intense argument.

Groaning, my sister marches over to my mom and dad, where she promptly tells them, "Quit arguing! It's the Reaping today and we don't need all this drama!"

Lauren looks like me, but in reality we are nothing alike. Her eyes are the same silvery blue as my own, only a darker shade. Her pale skin burns as easily as mine in the sun; it's a wonder we were born here, District 4 a paradise for tan people.

Lauren is a fighter, a rebel, and she is a leader, while I am a follower, a shy girl, someone who doesn't even talk in front of people other than her family. She is the fire; wild and uncontrollable, I am the water; calm and collected.

My parents look down at Lauren, and they see the fire burning bright in her eyes. Pushing her forward slightly, I carry Nick to the town square. The people are whispering, and I almost, almost know I'm not going to be reaped this year. Ulina Salte, a trained 18 year old who has always wanted to win the games, she has been training her butt off year round. She wants to volunteer today.

Reaching the peacekeeper's table, I set Nick down and push him towards my mother and father, who had looked up suddenly when they realized they are missing a little monster. Smiling at him, I push him away, and let the peacekeeper prick my finger.

Sucking the blood that was drawn, my face turning sour, and the rustic taste left me cringing on the inside. Trying to overcome the lingering flavor of rust, I walked over to the pen.

I wasn't too early, or too late. The fishing rope separated the 17 year old girl section from the 18 year olds near the stage, and the 16 year olds behind us. I walked briskly to my best friend who was lingering near the edge of the group, facing towards the stage.

"Someone's a loner today," I whisper into her ear. Elaine Porzyk jumps about a foot in the air, and turns around, an angry glare in her eyes. When she realizes it's me, I start letting loose a stifled laugh.

Her glare silences me quickly, and as a truce, I give her a hug. She stiffens and finally Elaine gives me a hug back. While I am anything but District 4 typical, when it comes to looks, Elaine basically fits all of the stereotypes.

Elaine has long blonde hair that falls down her back in waves, and lean muscles ripple over her tan skin from her daily training regimen. Sometimes I attempt them with her, but I may be fit, but she will always be an athletic dream that I will never reach.

She goes swimming every day, and she drags me along on some occasions, but I'd rather sit sketching and drawing the ocean, the beach, and the moon and stars. She's very popular, and I'm anything but, she can date any guy she likes, but me, they probably don't even know my name. I like being quiet and sketching and drawing instead.

I remember the quiet nights with the cool breezes that combed through my hair, sometimes drying the salty water that would drip down my back. I would sit on my rock, covered in the salty spray off of the lips of the waves, which would caress the outbreak of rock, never dousing my notepad, colored pencils and me entirely.

The bright moon shone down through the sky, leaving a silver reflection on the water's top, the image was only interrupted by the rippling waves. I use to sit there for hours, trying to capture the essence of the scene.

Remembering the good times as the mayor reads the History of Panem, I think about my 'training' my dad forces me through. You see, I use to have a big brother. He died in the games 5 years ago, the same game that Coral Zorkovask won.

Coral Zorkovask is the Victor of the 49th Annual Hunger Games, and apparently she is the mentor for this year's games, according to the announcement by the mayor just now. I don't hold anything personal against her, but she is a reason Ben, my brother, didn't make it home.

I cringe as the microphones feedback sends ripples through the crowd of teens, and 12 year olds, who are also cringing. The escort, Tira Serkine (Ugh the names of the Capitol folks), starts talking, and I think all of the kids would rather have the feedback of the microphone, rather than her squeaky voice.

"Welcome, welcome. Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor." I go back to my peaceful daydream, but am awoken when a name is called. "Darin Connor Cole," rings though the square, and I see a shuffling movement come from the 18 year old sections. Out emerges a rather hot boy. I know he will die in the games, so I just go back into my oblivious state.

One more year after today, I'm done being eligible for the Reapings. One more year of hope, luck, and maybe safety, then I can live a life without worry, and I can find love. The crowd goes silent and then a loud slap-like sound travels like waves over the audience. I look up from my oblivious state, and notice the stinging in my left cheek and Elaine whose hand is red.

"What?" I say faintly, then the blood which stained my cheek red, drained out of my face. As pale as a ghost, I shuffled up to the stairs. "Come on honey," Tira holds her hand out, and to be polite I grab it as I climb the stairs.

I'm confused. I didn't hear my name called, my best friend just slapped me, and apparently I'm going into the Hunger Games.

"You're Star Desent right? Because you're a beauty, and I know what we're going to be doing with you this year," my escort says. I ignore Tira and look down at my feet, embarrassed. When the mayor is done reading out loud the Treaty of Treason, Darin and I shake hands. I've been trying not to blush this whole time, but I know my cheeks turned a fierce shade of scarlet then.

I turn around from the crowds, and let the peacekeepers push me into a large, bland room. I sit down on a comfy couch placed in the middle of the comfy carpet, and wait for my first visitor.

Soon the door opens, and Lauren and Nick run in. My parents follow them silently, and I don't even glance in their direction. My mother and father stand awkwardly while I have Lauren sit to the right of me, and have Nick climb on my lap.

"You're gonna win, aren't you?" Lauren asked, her eyes filling with tears. She acts older than she is, but when tragedy strikes, her actual age of 12 wins over. "Well, I'm going to try certainly," I tell her, not trying to show the misery laced through my very being.

Giving her a fake smile, I give her one last hug and watch as she leaves the room with my parents. Nick stays firmly planted on my lap. His big silvery blue eyes look up at me, the same shade as mine.

He takes my hand in his smaller one, where he drops something smooth into the palm of my hand. The warmth from Nick's hand carries to the object, and soon it is cold in my hand.

I look down to see his lucky seashell, the sides smooth from the sand and salt rubbing against it for years. I feel the weight of him evaporate from my lap, and I look up to see him leaving. "Bye, and good luck," he whispers, then he walks out the door like he walks out of my life, maybe forever, but hopefully not.

Sighing, I lean back into the plush couch and close my eyes. The door opens, and I hear the sound of muffled footsteps coming from in front of me. The person sits on the couch, making the fabric dip down slightly, and she sighs too.

I open my eyes, to see Elaine sitting there. We sit there silently for a moment, until I break the ice, "Why didn't Ulina volunteer?" The thought hadn't crossed my mind until now, but I desperately wanted to know why I'm not, why I wasn't safe for this year's Reaping.

"She's dead," Elaine replies in a monotone voice. I hear the crack at the end, and see a small tear slip out from behind her eye. I don't even know how we became friends, all I know, is that almost certainly our friendship is over.

"The peacekeepers found her body in her home, she was stabbed," She continues, and I shake my head, trying to find peace in this chaos.

Soon our time is up, and Elaine moves up from the couch. I stand with her, and we move together to the door. She leaves first, and then I poke my head out the door to talk to the peacekeeper.

No one is there, and I see a crowd of girls trying to break through the human chain of peacekeepers trying to hold them back. Most of them are screaming and crying, I laugh at their foolishness.

Taking this opportunity, I walk briskly to the large door opposite mine. Opening it quietly, I slip in through the crack. Darin keeps his head in his hands, and doesn't look up at me.

"You should be glad they have peacekeepers out there," I say not delving further into that subject. He nods his head, and his golden sand-colored hair messily moves. I walk over to him, and sit next to him.

He looks up at me, and I get straight to the point this time, "I know you're going to be with the careers. I'm not going to say anything about that, but would you like to be in allegiance with my alliance too. I don't plan to be with the Careers; why don't you have a hidden allegiance with my people?" I ask I raise an eyebrow and give him a mysterious smile.

The first thing he says to me makes a smug smile appear on my face: yes. I hop up from my spot on the couch give him a wink, than slide back to my room. The peacekeepers didn't notice my absence from the room, so I was safe.

I finally let the stress show on my face. Rubbing at the back of my neck, I try to figure out how I can get the shyness out of my system. It was a wonder I got those words out at all, least of all without a stutter.

The peacekeeper looks into the room, and pushes the greasy strands of hair behind his ear. I move towards him, and to the train with a seashell in one hand, and a plan in another.

**Darin Connor Cole**

Your dad's out fishing please be ready before he gets back," Koi says pulling the blinds apart. I blink multiple times, trying to adjust my eyes to the sudden brightness. My mom and dad are both very laid-back people. They insist I call them by their first names, and the only time they actually care that we aren't late for something, is the Reaping.

Rubbing my sea green eyes with the back of my hand, I push the covers off of my chest and on the floor. I yawn, and slowly inch my way to the bureau in the corner of my cramped room.

Finally reaching the drawers, I slide open the top one. Inside, I grab a pair of my new jeans that are meant for a special occasion. The Reapings are as special as it gets here, is my thought as I pull them on over my boxers.

Pulling open the second drawer down, I pull out a green and blue plaid shirt. I button the shirt up while I head downstairs. I then run a hand through my wavy hair trying to get it more presentable. Shaking it out of my eyes, the sand colored mess just falls back in its usual place, and doing its usual job, limiting my vision.

Jogging to the front door, I grab a piece of buttered toast off of the kitchen table and shove it in my mouth. Bending down, I grab my dirty sneakers, but a voice stops me. "You don't plan on wearing that to the Reaping, do you?" Koi asks me.

"No," I say quickly, my voice is muffled from the toast. Dropping the sneakers, I bend down. Using my fingertips, I search for a different pair of shoes. "I plan on wearing these," I say, snatching my hands around a pair of dress shoes.

Koi nods, pleased with my choice this time, and turns back around to go into the kitchen. Shoving my feet into the dress shoes, I run outside to my friends, who are already standing there.

"Good enough time?" I ask them. "Nah, you were like a snail, inching your way here," Devin says. "At least he wasn't as slow as Johnny," Jordan says smirking in the direction of Johnny.

"My mom said I had to fix my hair, and you guys know how the cowlick never lays flat," Johnny complained, running his hand through his bronze hair. Listening to their conversation, I start pedaling my bike.

When we reach the town square, I throw my bike behind a bush and walk the remaining yards to the table near the peacekeepers. Getting my finger pricked quickly, I smeared the blood on my jeans and raced ahead to where my friends were.

A major pushing war had started when I came upon them. Soon, Johnny had a bloody elbow, Jordan big splotches of bruises on his head, arms, and legs, and Devin with only dirt scuffing his sneakers.

I on the other hand had a huge rip on the knee of my jeans. Praying to an unknown super-powerful being above, I hoped Koi and Jake didn't notice. Koi would get upset, but Jake (my dad) would calm her down, telling her boys are boys.

In front of me, my girlfriend, Elaine Porzyk is walking, her long blonde hair swaying back and forth, her long tan legs. And swaying hips distract me for a second.

We've been going out for about 3 months now, and even though she says she loves me every day, I don't love her back. Me being the most popular guy in school, and her being the most popular girl, I'm kind of pressured into this relationship.

Not that I think she doesn't look bad, but I know she's not the one for me. Turning into the 18 year old section, I stand next to Johnny, Devin, and Jordan, who are arguing over where we are going to meet later.

I completely ignore the History of Panem, instead of listening; I contemplate what I'm going to be doing next year instead of waiting for a name to be called.

Our escort, Tira Serkine steps forward, I cringe from the microphones feedback, and everyone falls silent. She welcomes us to the Reaping, like we have a choice to come, and walks over to the boy's Reaping ball.

Shoes clicking against the stage, she reads the name to the audience, "Darin Connor Cole." I involuntarily flinch, and see the crowd parting.

Shuffling forward, I travel to the stairs, and start climbing slowly. Standing next to Tira, I wipe my face clean of emotion. She skips over to the girl's Reaping bowl, and teeters back to the microphone in her incredibly high heels.

"Star Desent," rings throughout the crowd, I look down the girl's sections until Elaine's horrified look catches my attention. The blood drains out of her face, leaving her as white as a sheet, than she raises her hand, and smacks a pale girl across the cheek.

Looking around, Star starts walking to the stage to join me in a fight to the death. Her face is also pale, but there is a bright red splotch where Elaine's hand made contact with her cheek.

Once Star is up on the stage, I get a good look at her silvery-blue eyes. Their like a cat's eyes kind of, except they aren't slits. "Come on honey," Tira says holding out her hand, and Star takes it as she walks up the stairs.

You're Star Desent right? Because you're a beauty, and I know what we're going to be doing with you this year," I roll my eyes at our Capitol escort's comments. The mayor steps forward to read the Treaty of Treason. His monotone voice grates on my nerves, and I watch Star intently, my competition. I see her eyes flicker up to me, and her cheeks turn a beet red color.

The top of Star's head is still way below me, and me being 6 foot 5 inches she's about 9 inches shorter than me. Shaking Star's petite, and pale hand, I am escorted by peacekeepers into the Justice Building. Watching as Star enters her room, I then close the door to my room, sit on the comfortable couch, and wait for my visitors.

Koi and Jake open the door quietly, and Koi comes and sits down next to me. I see her red eyes and shaking hands, and I know she was crying. Jake walks over next, and starts talking, "Just win for us, win for me…" he pleads then trails off.

I stand up, and give Jake a hug, then also Koi. "I'll be alright, I'll come home I promise," I smile reassuringly. Now if only I could actually believe that.

Koi and Jake leave, and my next visitor visitors enter. "Dude, why'd it have to be you?" Devin asks while coming in, trailing Johnny and Jordan. "You should see the girls out there screaming their heads off and bawling a sea of tears," Jordan says while leaning on the arm of the couch.

"I must be a real heart breaker then," I wink at them mischievously. "Seriously dude you have a girlfriend!" Johnny says, finally joining our conversation. "Not for long," I mutter under my breath. My friends aren't supposed to hear me, but I see Jordan's face light up and know he is listening. "Since you're dumping her," he says slyly, "Can I ask her out?" I ignore his question, instead pushing him, Devin, and Johnny out the door.

"I'll see you when you get home," I hear one of them yell, and I can't help but smile. A soft knock on the door lets me know Elaine has arrived.

She strolls in, and sits right next to me on the couch, which I had moved to again, and starts crying. Holding her hand, I ask her what's wrong.

"My b-b-best friend and m-my b-b-b-boyfriend are in a fight to the d-d-death," she stutters out, and I realize her predicament. Taking a deep breath I say my thoughts, but now I have a good reason, "I'm breaking up with you. I don't want you to be conflicted when the games start. I'm sorry, and I hope you understand." I say it as gently as I can, but I see even more tears well up in her eyes.

"Don't tell Star, or anyone, about this," she whispers, then runs out of the room, crying harder than ever. My last visitor has come and gone.

Putting my head into my hands, the door creaks open (I didn't even know the door could creak). Not taking my hands out of my head, someone steps forward a couple of paces, then stops, watching me.

"You should be glad they have peacekeepers out there," Star says, breaking the silence. I nod my head from where it is in my hands, and she walks over to the couch and sits next to me.

She takes a deep breath, and starts to talk. I look up to hear what she has to say, "I know you're going to be with the careers. I'm not going to say anything about that, but would you like to be in allegiance with my alliance too. I don't plan to be with the Careers; why don't you have a hidden allegiance with my people?"

She asks this question, and gives me a mysterious smile and raises my eyebrows. Her nervousness is still visible in the shaking of her hands. Thinking only for a moment, I reply, "Yes." She smiles, hops up from her place on the couch and walks back to her room.

I lower my head back into my hands and think, what's going to happen? I wish I knew, I wish I have an answer, I wish that I would understand. Instead, I'm as confused as ever.

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**So, did you like? Did you not like? Any constructive criticism welcome, and since I'm trying out the poll thing, vote please! Thank you soo much!**

**Question you can answer in your review: How would you feel if you were Elaine? Do you think that Darin will stay true in his alliance with Star?**

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**I do not NOT ow****n the Hunger Games! :)**


	5. Authors Note

**A/N: I'm so sorry if you thought I finally updated. For me, life has been VERY busy. I'm so sorry, but I have decided to stop writing this story. All of your wonderful reviews make me feels so guilty, but I just have found this story deteriorating fast. I'm not happy to say this, but I have found an original story idea that I am going to use, and hopefully get published. So look for me! **

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**I would like to thank all of my wonderful readers, an I hope you understand why I am doing this. Thank you for following along for the last few chapters. I only hope I can finish a story one day. **

**For the last time in this story, goodbye. And I hoped you enjoyed my writing in the first few chapters. I'm sorry too. :)**


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